Red. (Den of Mercenaries #1)(11)

Soon, he was hustled out of the van towards the entrance. Various corridors faded to the background of his mind as he walked through dozens of doors as his surroundings began to blend into themselves.

Finally, as they reached the end of a long hallway where a lone door loomed ahead of them, Niklaus began to second guess his decision to come to this place, even more so when that door was opened and he was pushed inside.

Still weak from his injuries, he stumbled, hitting the concrete floor hard as he rolled over to keep them in his sights. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of them as they all stared down at him with the door open at their backs. All of them wore ski masks and dark clothing, and while their arms rested at their sides. Niklaus didn’t doubt that they were waiting for him to make a move.

After a moment, they shuffled to the side as the man from the alley appeared in the doorway, surveying Niklaus with casual indifference. The light illuminated his profile, making him seem like some sort of god, but Niklaus didn’t believe in that.

Not anymore.

“You are not a prisoner here,” the man said. “This door will remain unlocked and should you choose to leave, no one will stop you. If you choose to stay, however, the life you led outside this room will cease to exist.” The man came forward then, crouching down so he was eye-level with Niklaus. “I am not cruel. I’ll at least tell you what to expect. First, they will break your mind, then—if you are sane enough to notice—they will break your body. By the end, you will beg for death, far worse than anything those Albanians put you through.”

One by one, the men exited until there was no one left but the man and Niklaus.

“But should you finish your training, you will be better for it. And you may even thank me for what you become.”

The man turned for the door, but before he could leave, Niklaus called out to him. “What? What will I become?”

Only glancing back for half a second, the man said two words that made a chill run down Niklaus’ spine.

“A weapon.”



* * *



He couldn’t see a thing, not since they left him in complete darkness, on his stomach in the center of the room. Even noise evaded him, only the sound of his heavy breathing and the occasional person walking outside the door granted him any reprieve. And somehow, food was always put into his room without him ever seeing the person who left it.

Niklaus couldn’t say how long he had been in the room, and the longer he laid there, the more time his mind had to focus. Not on the mysterious place he now resided in—though he had had plenty of time for that as the possibilities were endless—but after so long, his thoughts had drifted from the present to the one place he didn’t want to revisit.

Sarah.

Thoughts of her plagued him, hounded his every breathing moment to the point that he could almost swear he smelled her perfume surrounding him, that soft lilac fragrance a comfort in the barren recesses of his mind.

The further he slipped into that headspace, the less pain he was in.

She was smiling at him, the only look he ever wanted to see on her face. Before he knew it, Niklaus was reaching for her, wanting to touch her to make sure she was real, but as his fingers came into contact with her skin, he burned.

Jerking his hands away, he stared at them, wondering why he hurt. An apology was ready at his lips, but as he looked to Sarah, flames were consuming her, slowly melting her flesh away, but all the while, she stared at him, pleading with her eyes.

“I-I…” He didn’t know what to say, couldn’t force the words out if he tried.

Niklaus couldn’t even bring himself to look away as he watched her burn to nothing, and as she did, the memories of his time with the Albanians came rushing in.

The smell of burning flesh…

The pain he suffered…

The laughter…

The crying…

His weakness…

Niklaus didn’t realize he’d been screaming all over again until a piercing sound emanating from the walls woke him, making him cringe and slap his hands over his ears. His throat was raw, his cheeks wet with tears.

He was almost glad for the sound, if only because it drew him out of a terrible place, but as quickly as the sound had started, it tapered off, leaving a slight ringing in his ears.

Niklaus moved to sit up, flexing his arms, feeling the strength returning. His back was itching like mad, but he was thankful for this because it meant he was healing. The physical pain was finally dulling, the mental…well that still lingered.

For a while, Niklaus had forgotten about the echoing noise that had woken him from his nightmare, at least until it started again, seeming louder than last time. This time, when it tapered off, it was only gone for seconds before it started back up again. Time and time again, the sound came to life, ringing ever louder.

He had mistakenly tried to time it, wanting to prepare himself for the next burst, but soon the intervals in which it played changed, making him wary every time silence filled the room.

Next came the lights.

From complete darkness to the brightest and hottest lights he had ever seen. They nearly blinded him, making his head pound as his pupils dilated painfully. For the longest time, the two sensory items alternated, working in accord until he was on the floor, just trying to remember how to breathe.

Soon, he thought he heard a voice within the shrill sounds, and was almost inclined to laugh at the thought. Even in his miserable state, he never forgot that the door was still there, waiting for his failure and cowardice to bring him to it, but even as the pain went on, and he finally found himself crawling across the floor for it, his arm shaking terribly as he reached for the knob, he never opened it.